Blackwall's Lady
by Phsbarbie
Summary: Blackwall made a lot of promises to Lady Lavellan, but now that all is said and done there's only one he can keep. Sweet stories, contains some spoilers
1. My Lady's Hound

I return to the room as quietly as I can as the sun peeks over the horizon, taking extra care not to wake Mira. Though, to be honest, I could probably slam the door without waking her. The woman is a heavy sleeper.

I asked her once how she survived as a Dalish hunter when as soon as her head hits her pillow she's dead to the world. She told me she was their best and fiercest hunter, not their most alert. At least, not while she slept. Whenever they sent her out into the wilds overnight they sent a light sleeper with her.

Sure enough, as I come up the stairs I see her lying in the exact same spot I left her in. I smother a chuckle- no need to press my luck- and kneel beside the bed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

I love this woman. I never thought I'd find love, I know for a fact that I don't deserve it, and yet Mira Lavellan loves me back, faults and all. I don't know why, but I thank the maker for it daily. I know I'm not worthy of her, know I never will be, but I try to make her happy, to be the kind of man she deserves.

After she found out who I really am, before we killed Corypheus, I made her a promise- when all this was over we'd get a house and a dog and she could use that mark of hers to make us eggs every morning. She gave me an amused look and said if anyone was going to be making eggs it would be me. I happily agreed.

Now, however, it looks like the Inquisition won't be letting her go anytime soon; Thedas still desperately needs the Herald of Andraste, whether she worships the Elven Creators or not. So it looks like I won't be getting her that house in the woods- she has no need for anything but Skyhold. And, as for the eggs, there's an entire kitchen staff holding their breath for her every whim. There's no need for me to make her any. They'd probably just kick me out of the kitchens anyway.

But there is one thing I promised her that I can still deliver.

"Mira," I say gently, wanting to wake her but not startle her. I know all too well about the dagger she keeps under her pillow. I've pricked myself on the damn thing in the middle of the night.

She starts to stir, so I lean forward and kiss her lightly, my lips clinging briefly to hers. When I pull back it's to find her looking at me, blue eyes not quite focused and blinking lazily.

"Blackwall?" she asks, sleep still lacing her voice. "What are you doing out of bed?" She reaches a hand out to my face and I trap it there, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"I have a surprise for you, love," I tell her, as excited as a school boy.

"Is it food?" she asks, looking behind me hopefully.

I laugh. "No, it's not, though I did stop by the kitchens and told them you'd be ready for breakfast in an hour."

Her eyes twinkle. "An hour? There's a lot we can do in an hour."

I'm tempted to take her up on that offer, but somehow I don't think the surprise waiting at the bottom of the stairs would appreciate it. I'm told they're as smart and aware as some humans.

I shake my head at her. "Your present, remember?"

She rolls her eyes. "All right, what is it?"

I grin and let out a short, sharp whistle, just like the trainer showed me. I hear the click of paws on stone immediately, as if the Mabari pup was listening intently for her cue.

She bounds up the stairs and onto the bed, making a beeline for her new mistress. Mira lets out an uncharacteristic squeal of delight. She opens her arms to the pup, laughing when it starts to lick her face.

"You got me a dog?" she asks, delighted.

The grin on my face has spread from ear to ear. "Not just any dog, a Mabari war hound. She's just a puppy right now, so she'll need to be trained, but-"

"Blackwall," she cuts me off, the look on her face almost childlike in its joy. "I love it. She's perfect."

I feel like bursting with pride. "What are you going to call her?"

She thinks for a moment then rubs her nose against the pup's. "Da'len. I'm going to call her Da'len."

"Da'len," I repeat, sitting down on the bed next to her. "I like it."

She laughs. "Your pronunciation of Elvish is still horrible."

"Hey," I protest, feigning offense, "at least I'm trying."

She smiles, happiness radiating off of her, and leans up to kiss me. "Thank you, vhenan."

I smile back at her. "You're welcome, my love."


	2. My Lady's Freedom

I watch her from the ramparts, unable or unwilling to keep a smile from my face. Mira strides through the courtyard below, her gait assured and her bearing one of authority, as always. Today, however, she's leaving smothered laughter and smiles in her wake.

Traveling behind her, trying very hard to behave, is Da'len, the Mabari pup I gave to her last week. You'd expect a Mabari, even a puppy, to strut as she walked. With all that muscle, all that grace, that every step taken would be a reminder of just how quickly your throat could be ripped out. Not so. At least, not with Da'len.

Oh sure, she may start out her courtyard patrol with her head held high, trying to match Mira's impressive aura, but it's not long before she becomes distracted by something and forgets the role she was pretending to play. Yesterday she was distracted by one the children from the refugee camps, who was laughing in delight at the sight of a puppy. She bounded right over to him and spent ten minute licking his face. The day before a soldier offered her a piece of meat, which she gladly took and settled down to gnaw on.

Today it's a butterfly dancing in the grass, the brilliant blue of its wings standing out against the blades of green. Da'len crouches down, her tail wagging enthusiastically as she prepares to pounce. She captures her target on her first try, trapping the butterfly gently beneath her paws. After a moment she lets it go to fly a few feet away and then repeats the process. The third time she frees it she glances up, looking for Mira's approval, only to find Mira's moved on without her.

One day the sight of Da'len running, chasing someone, will strike fear into the hearts of all those that see it. Today is not that day. She runs in the same way all puppies do, with paws too big for her body and an adorable lack of grace. She speeds towards Mira, realizing too late she doesn't have enough room to stop. Instead she slides right through her mistress's legs, landing in a heap in front of her.

Mira tries to keep a straight face, but when Da'len rights herself and looks up at her, panting expectantly, she breaks into a laugh. She leans down and rubs her hand behind the pup's ear, speaking what I'm sure are words of encouragement though I'm too far away to hear them.

I smile down at her, my gaze drinking in every detail and committing it to memory. As if she can feel its weight on her she turns to the ramparts, her eyes finding mine immediately. She smiles, dusty rose lips curving up temptingly, and waves. My own smile overtakes my face and I wave back before she turns away and continues her inspections.

"Well," comes a haughty, mocking voice from behind me, "you two seem to make each other happy."

My smile disappears with a sigh as my least favorite person in the keep makes herself comfortable beside me, leaning a hip against the ramparts. I'm surprised she's not worried about sullying her robes. Then again, they never appear out of place. Perhaps it's magic.

Madame Vivienne is a beautiful woman; tall, graceful, with skin like ebony and hair shorn short, showing off the elegant line of her neck. She's also haughty, judgmental, and a great lover of the Orlesian game. She's everything I hate about my past, everything that's wrong about Orlais. Needless to say we don't see eye to eye.

I lean forward on my forearms against the ramparts, waiting for whatever stinging barb of an insult she has prepared to follow that statement. It doesn't come. I glance over at her to find she's not paying me any attention, her gaze on the mountains beyond.

"And?" I ask, suspicion lining my voice. "Surely, you're not ending this on a complimentary note."

She draws her attention back to me reluctantly, as if she forgot I was there. I'm not fooled. "I was just wondering," she says lightly, making idle conversation, "how you imagined your future?" She pauses for a moment to see if she's hit her mark. When I make no response beyond a clenched jaw she continues, prodding me. "The Inquisitor and the- well, whatever you are now." The false concern in her voice is sweet enough to give me a toothache.

I don't think there was ever a chance Madame Vivienne was going to like me. She dislikes most of Mira's companions, actually, and I highly doubt I could have ever overcome being a "common, insignificant warden." Doesn't matter if I could have though, my fate was sealed from our first fight together.

Mira and I were charging into the fray, keeping the damn Templars busy while Vivienne and Solas attacked from a distance. It was my job to be the tank, to let no one past me- but I did. One bastard slipped by and went straight for Madame Vivienne. He managed to bash her with his shield, and action he immediately paid for as she lit him aflame.

Still, that blow she took was unnecessary. If I had done my duty, if I had stopped that warrior, she wouldn't have been hurt. I approached her after the battle, as we caught our breath and cleaned our weapons.

"Are you all right, Lady Vivienne?" I asked, true concern evident in my voice.

She arched one of her polished eyebrows in what I should have realized was a warning. I didn't. "Whatever are you talking about, darling?"

"In that fight," I insisted on continuing, "I saw you take a blow. If I'd been there quicker-"

She cut me off with a laugh, light and musical- and false. Her lips turned up in a smile, but it never reached her eyes. Those blazed with anger... and disdain. "Oh, aren't you _precious_?" Her tone remained unchanged, but the venom in her words was clear.

"Ah," I said, realizing I had erred. "I appear to have offended."

"No dear," she said, moving past me and towards Mira on the other side of the clearing. "You couldn't _possibly_ offend me."

The sound of Mira's laugh, rich and warm below me, brings me back to the present. The sound returns my smile; she has a habit of doing that. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love her.

Beside me Lady Vivienne clears her throat, pulling my attention back to her. I turn to her with a look of pity in my eyes. If she truly thinks she'll be able to drives us apart she's sorely mistaken.

"Ah, I see," I say, a small humorless smile remaining on my face. "You think we're a poor match." I gesture down to Mira below, starting a training match with Sera. "Lady Vivienne, that woman there will stand with Thedas' mightiest because of who she _is_." I make no mention of her own standing or whom it relies on, leaving her to draw the comparisons herself. "She may choose whomever she pleases, even an undeserving nobody like me." I take a step closer, invading her personal space. A sign, we both know, of disrespect. "Envy her for her ability to love freely," I state evenly, "but recognize that envy is what it is."

"She could do much better than you," Vivienne hisses.

"Yes, she could," I readily agree. I have never claimed to be worthy of Mira Lavellan- I never will be. "But if you really thought this conversation would make me step away from her, give you room to arrange a more advantageous match, you truly aren't as skilled at the Game as you think."

Her features, always schooled into a pleasant expression, now snarl at me, pure hatred glaring at me from her dark brown eyes. I incline my head to her and walk away, descending the steps to the courtyard two at a time. Sera fires a dulled arrow at Mira which she quickly blocks and then counters.

"That's three!" Mira declares triumphantly. "Match to me!"

Sera grumbles something about forcing Mira to eat raisins as she walks away and I laugh. That girl is a sore loser. I wrap my arms around Mira from behind and press a kiss behind her ear.

"Did you know, my lady, that I am hopelessly in love with you?"

She turns slightly in my arms to flash me a smile and press a kiss to my lips. "And I you, ma vhenan, and I you."

She turns back to watch Da'len stalk another butterfly and I lean my chin against her shoulder, closing my eyes and breathing her in. The scent of her vanilla musk tickles my nose and I am reminded, not for the first time, that other's opinions of me no longer matter. As long as Mira sees something in me worth loving I can't be that bad after all.


End file.
